


lost in the rush

by blvkkcat



Series: The Divinity of Hell [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: A Series, Angst, F/M, Fluff, a lot is going on in these
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blvkkcat/pseuds/blvkkcat
Summary: Peter Parker and Felicia Hardy broke up months ago. But, the flame for each other still burns.





	lost in the rush

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first of sixteen different stories. they're all based off of every song Lewis Capaldi has made. the first being Rush featuring Jessie Reyez.

Eight months.

 

Eight months had passed and Peter couldn’t sleep. He could sleep fine before, just this night wasn’t like the other nights. This was the night he was reminded by the cruel notification from SnapChat, that it had been eight months since he and his now ex-girlfriend, Felicia Hardy had ended things.

 

There was a certain emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on. One he couldn’t explain to anyone, not even himself. There was no way for him to talk about how he was because he didn’t know how he was. He was unclear of everything. It felt like he was over with it, that even if there was a second chance for them, he wouldn’t take it. Peter would look at the second chance dead in the eyes. He’d stare at it emotionless and coldly. He’d give it nothing, and just turn his cheek. He’d walk in the different and forget anything came up. He wouldn’t even dare think about it afterwards. 

 

But there was another emotion he felt.

 

This one felt like it missed her. One that would make him take that second chance over and over again. He’d keep taking his chances until they ran out, or he ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. He wanted her close to him, back in his arms. He wanted her back so he could rant to her. Listen to her advice. Listen to her rant back to him the next night about something stupid or something she was passionate in. He could listen to her talk for hours on end and he wouldn’t be annoyed by it one bit. He’d enjoy it. He’d take the second chance like he takes in the oxygen he breathes to survive.

 

More and more emotions flowed through his core as he stared up at the ceiling trying to identify what they all were and what each of them meant.

 

One telling him to text her, bring something up. Make plans, do something. Another shooting that idea down six feet under him. Telling him it would never end up the way he wanted it. The life of a pessimist shining through his skin in that moment.

 

But, apparently one can only block something out for so long.

 

It was tiring for Peter to delete everything. Each conversation they had. Every post they made together. Every small thing that could be deleted. It took awhile for him to eventually block her number. He once considered to just delete it. Erase the entire memory and every possible way of contacting Felicia from his mind with just one click.

 

But he couldn’t do it.

 

With blocking the number, he thought it would still be there. Just in case something happens and he needs her number for something. Even if he deleted it, he still remembered it. If he had to recite a phone number to call to escape from a kidnapper or he was put on the spot with someone pointing a gun at his head and the only way he could live was to say a phone number. He’d say Felicia’s. He doesn’t even know his own from memory, but he knows hers.

 

It’s difficult for someone to completely forget something about someone when everything can remind them of the person they want to forget. For Peter to end up thinking about Felicia, it would be as simple as mangoes. The small things can put someone back into a train of thought they set themselves to forget.

 

Peter tossed himself over onto his right side, facing the wall. He tried to force his eyes to shut. Force himself with every fiber of his being to get some sleep, he had things to do in the morning. He couldn’t have the thought of her swarming his mind at this time of night, he needed to sleep. Recharge himself for another boring day of work to do. But there was something that kept him up.

 

The absence of a single noise is what was keeping him from sleeping.

 

Her heartbeat.

 

There is something poetic to him about a missing sound being gone, as he never noticed it was missing in the first place. It wasn’t until he was told she was gone that he heard the silence that echoed around his room. How the only sounds he could hear were from outside his window, or the yelling of his neighbours. He didn’t know he lost something until it was mentioned. Until he could finally hear the buzzing coming from the fridge. 

 

Her heartbeat was in his head the entire time, he knew the exact sound from memory. Each time it would slow down as she relaxed or speed up while she had a nightmare. The beating of the muscle was soothing to him, a calming sound he could listen to and know he’s okay. Each thump of her heart pushing blood through her body was warming and familiar. But was now gone.

 

Peter finally gave in to everything he had been feeling.

 

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and unlocked it, going straight to Instagram. A bad idea on his part, nut he couldn’t help himself. He scrolled through the ten or so posts she had on her account. He stared at each for a solid five minutes, swiping through if they had multiple photos to it. He’d read the comments, see what people were saying about her. He reached one of the photos, one she took and had him help her choose to post. She wore this blue sweater with a white turtleneck underneath. Her platinum hair falling onto her shoulders, her lips coated with a bright red lipstick she was obsessed with. Her famous cat-eye eyeliner lining her eyelid, bringing out her bold green eyes. A small smile on her face. One slowly creeping up on his as well. Only for it to fade quickly.

 

He accidently liked the picture.

 

His breathing hitched as he rapidly turned his phone off, not thinking to unlike the photo before she would eventually see that he had liked the post from thirty six weeks ago. His heart raced, it beating faster and faster with every panicked thought he had.

 

_ Is she awake? _

 

_ Will she see that I liked her post? _

 

_ Is she going to think I’m stalking her? I am definitely not stalking her. _

 

Peter kept going over and over about the whole moment, wondering countless things. If he couldn't sleep before, he definitely couldn't now. He wanted to pick the phone back up however. He wanted to look at the pictures of her again, stare at her face and examine every small thing about her.

 

He decided to after ten minutes, turning his phone on and seeing nothing from Felicia. He was in the clear. He went back to her page, scrolling past the still liked picture to the one below it. The image depicted her on the beach, sitting on a towel with someone beside her. One of her friends, one he didn’t know well enough to know exactly who it was. He sighed, looking at the photo. She was still the prettiest thing he had ever laid his eyes on, each time he saw her his breath would hitch. It being taken from him, escaping his lungs quickly each time he saw her.

 

He was in love with her, and he knew it. He didn’t think he was still in love with her, it was all in the past. A simple, Peter Parker  _ loved _ Felicia Hardy. Emphasis on the -ed suffix of love. There wasn’t anything that clicked with him that told him he was still in love, it was just loved.

 

He laid there waiting. Waiting for nothing but hoping there would be something that happened. He was just there, waiting for hours on end. For her.

 

\--

 

Felicia poured some coffee into her mug, she had a long night ahead of her. A project being due in the morning and she was just starting, procrastination at it’s finest.

 

She placed the mug farther away from her water jug, praying she wouldn’t get too tired and accidently dip her paintbrush in the coffee or drink the musty paint water. She had gotten the idea to paint an angel, closely looking like herself. She didn’t see herself as one, she didn’t see any reason to associate or compare herself to this religious being.

 

Next to the angel, was a saint. One she noticed after a period of time resembled her ex boyfriend, Peter Parker. It was strange to her as to why she painted the saint in that sort of way, she hadn’t seen him for months or even heard the name. But for some reason she knew how to paint an almost exact replica of him. Right down to the placement of each freckle he had sprinkled across his face.

 

She was also puzzled as to why she painted this version of him as a saint. Saint’s being somehow kind, and virtuous. Although Peter was kind, and she knew he was kind. She didn’t really remember if he was virtuous. All the high standards he would have to have to possess this trait, she didn’t think he had this.

 

As she continued, she kept running through why she gave the angel and the saint the features of Peter and herself. She doesn’t see herself that way, and didn’t think of Peter that way, she was confused.

 

She took a break to stare at what she had done. Looking over the strokes, seeing if everything was well blended and to her liking. She was halfway done the entities of the angel and the saint, the negative space still blank. She began thinking of how it felt being with him. That no matter what their moods were, they would always end up in some sort of escape. This safe place for each other. Like it was their own heaven and hell, mashed into one.

 

Felicia then grabbed the paint and started the backdrop. Half being light and airy. Everything heaven would be. Calming, gentle and pleasing. Small clouds with tints of pink added as shadows. The feeling of tranquillity, something that gave her a sense of happiness as she painted with each stroke.

 

The other half, a depiction of hell.

 

The colours being dark and firey. The hell everyone would clearly imagine, a place of torture and destruction. Small pieces of ash and tiny images of chains around the saint, engulfing the bottom half of the character in the flames. She added small highlights to each flame. There was a feeling of hatred, as Felicia was painting she started to reach deep into her mind. Pulling out all the feelings she had bottled up. Tears starting to form as she kept going, the ugly part of her emotions being poured into this.

 

With a shaky breath, she finished the hell side of her art. She stared at the middle of it, a line cutting the two different worlds off. She made that part bright, a sigh of the two universes of good and bad colliding to be one. She made it seem like the angel and the saint were dancing through the two earths. Spinning to their own tune.

 

She smiled, seeing that everything was perfect. Felicia grabbed her phone from her pocket, wanting to check the time. The first thing she saw was a notification from instagram.

 

**peteparker liked a post.**

 

She stared at this notification. Millions of questions came to mind.

 

_ Why did he like a post? _

 

_ What is he doing up and three in the morning looking at my account? _

 

_ Is he stalking me? That’s unlike him, he wouldn’t do that. _

 

She looked back up at the painting in front of her, seeing the two figures in a new way. She saw it as if the angel was losing the saint to hell. Their song coming to an end, the dance coming to a halt as the depths of the dark and hideous place took them. She wondered what the two people felt. If they were real people, what would their emotions be. What was the angel losing the saint to? Death? A break up? Were the two once in love but had something awful happen which lead to one having to leave?

 

She wanted to know how much of her relationship with Peter was put into the small but meaningful backstories to the piece. 

 

Felicia glanced back down at her phone, the notification still being there. She opened it to see which post he could’ve possibly liked. It was an older one, a picture he took of her. She half smiled, realizing the story behind it.

 

The feeling of what heaven would feel like. A warm feeling as she remembered the small interaction.

 

She gulped, pressing  his account. Going through his photos. He hadn't posted recently, the last one being from a couple weeks ago. She stared at it, her smile fading. She felt as if she missed him but it wasn’t an official feeling. It was something she could see herself feeling but not something she could clearly announce.

 

She didn’t push it past her, she knew there was some emotion there. She just dismissed the one she thought it was.  _ Me? Missing him? It’s been months, get over it like you have been for the past months since we ended things. _

 

She went to their direct messages, knowing she got rid of his number to feel like she was completely over him. She started to type multiple conversation starters.

 

**_So, you’re stalking me?_ ** Too forward.

 

**_You thinking about us? The picture you liked was one you took._ ** Sounds like she misses him.

 

**_Hey._ ** Simple, effective and sent.

 

Felicia turned her phone off, throwing it aside. She looked back up at the finished painting, going back to the questions she had.

 

What song were they listening to before the tragic ending they were facing?

 

She then associated the angel and the saint to her and Peter again. The question now is: what are they doing now that their song is over?


End file.
